I Didn't Mean To
by JayBird87
Summary: I graduate in 2 weeks. Jason won't be there. Diary of Lucas Carter, postBare. T: language, sexual, violent & drug references. Format I originally wrote it in didn't go through. There were crossings out where Lucas made changes in his word choice. Oh well.
1. Summer

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bare. God, I wish I did, but I don't.

**Author's Note:** This is journal-style format from Lucas Carter's POV. They're short entries because Lucas wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box; he always did the minimum amount of work to get by.

**Author's Note2:** Where ever there is an ellipses (aka .dot.), there should have been a cross out in his writing. Unfortunately, when I uploaded the files to they didn't go through. Please keep in mind that that is why his writing trails or sounds jumbled up.

**Characters:** Lucas Carter, Peter Simmonds, Nadia McConnell, Ivy Robinson & baby, Matt Lloyd, Tanya Garret, Sister Chantelle.

**June 8****th**** – Day 1.**

Tonight was opening night of Romeo & Juliet. I played Benvolio, the peacekeeper. We were supposed to have three shows. Ivy was Juliet and she's knocked up. I watched my friend Jason die on stage. He was Romeo. He's Ivy's babydaddy. I don't understand what happened. How did he overdose? I have a feeling I'm respon… I gave him the drugs, but I didn't think he'd… but I should've known better. I graduate in two weeks. Jason won't be there.

**June 20****th**** – Day 12.**

I almost made it to graduation. Five years at St. Cecilia's, and I was finally at the end of my high school days. Jason was the only one who never made fun of me for having to repeat freshman year. I was so close. _So close_. But instead I was arrested. Nadia watched them put me in the cruiser. I couldn't tell what she was… I wish I knew what she was thinking. I bet she hates me.

**July 3****rd**** – Day 22.**

My trial was today. Peter and Nadia sat together. I wanted to… I couldn't look at them. Even if I was allowed… I couldn't tell them I was sorry. Ivy and Matt didn't even show up. Tanya sat in the back. I could hear her crying. We were together for two and a half years. I ruined everything. I don't want her to think I'm a killer, but the trial is gonna take longer than they thought.

**August 16****th**** – Day 43.**

The last day of my trial was three days ago. I was ruled guilty of second-degree murder, involuntary manslaughter, possession, intent to sell, and selling. I didn't get my sentencing until today. Court gave me 5 years in prison for the murder/manslaughter charges and 2 for the drug charges. But I didn't mean to… kill him… Did I?

* * *

To be continued through the seven years Lucas spends in prison. Don't worry; Peter, Nadia, Matt, Ivy and Tanya will all be involved as the story goes on. Things are going to get much more interesting. Lucas's writing abilities will become better the more he writes in his journal, and more details will appear in the story.

Reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated!


	2. Fall

**Author's Note:** Where ever there is an ellipses (aka .dot.), there should have been a cross out in his writing. Unfortunately, when I uploaded the files to they didn't go through. Please keep in mind that that is why his writing trails or sounds jumbled up.

**September 13****th**** – Day 71.**

I'm starting to get into a routine now. Wake up. Eat. Work. Eat. Bed. The food in prison is about the same as at St. Cecilia's. I miss my friends. I miss Tanya.

**September 24****th**** – Day 82.**

Tanya won't have anything to do with me. I called her and she thought I would've known better than to think I had any chance with her anymore. I don't think… I don't have any friends. I'll leave this cell in 5 years and never see any of them… Matt, Ivy, Peter, Nadia or Tanya ever again.

**October 11****th**** – Day 99.**

Today I learned how to numb the pain. I don't have any X or GHB or K or even weed anymore. They don't let that shit in here. I never went through withdrawal. I guess that means Tanya was right… wrong. I found a substitute. If you take a comb and scrape it at just the right angle on the bed rail, it becomes sharp as a steak knife. It helps make the rest of the world disappear. It works… For a little while, at least.

**October 31****st**** – Day 119.**

I can't remember what Tanya's hair smelled like. I can picture her face, but I'm not sure I have the shape of her eyes or the curve of her lips right in my mind. Everything's fading. It's been exactly a… almost a hundred and twenty days since Jason died. It's all my fault. I'm a criminal, a killer. He's dead, and I killed him. It took me a hundred and twenty days to realize this.

**November 16****th**** – Day 135.**

It's getting colder. The sun is going down earlier. Winter's on its way, and this goddamned prison is freezing. Prisons don't get first dibs on government money. The heat is faulty, the lights are dim, and it's so fucking cold. Even if the prisons got some of that fucking tax money, would they give it to us… me? I'm a cold-hearted killer, right? I deserve the cold… every ounce of ice they pour on my back.

**November 30****th**** – Day 149.**

I wonder what would happen if I died before my sentence was up. Would my friends… former friends come to my funeral? Would they regret cutting me off? Would Tanya cry, like she did when I was on trial? I don't think… know they wouldn't. They hate me. I killed their brother, their friend, their soul mate, their father…


	3. Winter

**Author's Note:** Where ever there is an ellipses (aka .dot.), there should have been a cross out in his writing. Unfortunately, when I uploaded the files to they didn't go through. Please keep in mind that that is why his writing trails or sounds jumbled up.

**December 2****nd**** – Day 151.**

Shit. I wonder when Ivy will have her baby. I'll never know. No one will ever show me a picture or write me a letter about the kid. I won't get to know his name. I'll never be able to tell him I'm sorry for killing his dad. Or will it be a girl? Will she want to know what happened to her dad, or pretend like there's nothing missing in her young life? Damn. I never thought I'd have a family… want a family with Tanya. But when I think about Ivy, I wonder what it'd be like if I grew up and made Tanya Mrs. Lucas Carter. She'd kill me if she knew I was thinking about this.

**December 16th – Day 165.**

There's no fucking heat in this place. Had I known prison was this cold… I hate that I killed Jason. But I did it. I put the fucking drug in his hands and said "We're cool", and he fucking died. It's my fault. I'm a murderer. I hate my life… myself. God damnit, I lost that comb.

**December 24****th**** – Day 173.**

Christmas Eve. I miss my fr… I miss everyone more than ever. Shit, it's only been 6 months. Do they still talk to each other? Do they even care? I wonder what they're doing tonight. I wish I could call… God, I have to stop thinking about them. It's killing me. But I found my friendly little blade. I named it Tanya. She stings at first, but it feels better in the end.

**December 25****th**** – Day 174.**

They give you presents in prison. What the hell that's about, I don't know. I got a pair of socks. My parents sent me a package. A box stuffed with Styrofoam and felt. At the bottom was a letter from Boston University, withdrawing their acceptance. I forgot I was supposed to go… going to college. I would've failed out anyway.

**January 5****th**** – Day 185.**

I feel sick. There are scars all over my arms. I can't breathe in this place. I just feel sick all the time. I want to get out of this place. I want to die.

**January 18****th**** – Day 193.**

The guy in the cell next to me is threatening to tell the guards what I've been doing.

"You're killing yourself, kid. You need help." He says.

"We're fine. I don't need your help." I tell him.

"We?" He's weirded out. But I don't want his fucking help. We're fine, Jason and me. We're both a-fucking-okay.

**February 21****st**** – Day 221.**

They found my silver Tanya. They took her away. I can't bleed the pain away. I'm stuck in this place of fear and agony. When it's nighttime, and all the lights are out, I lie in my bed and look at the cell door, waiting for a miracle. Instead, Jason is standing there. He says he isn't angry. He says it's not my fault. I told him he's wrong, and I close my eyes and try and make him disappear.


	4. Spring

**March 2****nd**** – Day 246.**

It's my birthday today. I'm officially 20 years old. I'm ready to die now. 20 is a good number for that. I'm exactly 7 years younger than Morrison, Hendrix, Joplin and Cobain when they kicked it, and I crammed all the shit they did plus more into a shorter lifespan. I'm ready to go. Jason thinks I should wait. I think I just have to find the right way to do it.

**March 3****rd**** – Day 247.**

It's unbelievable. Unfuckingbelievable. The guard comes over to my cell door and says I have a visitor. I followed him out to the visiting area in silence. I look at the table and I swear my blood just froze.

She looked thinner than I remembered, but I was sure she was really there. Sister Chantelle.

"Hello Lucas," she said. And she was smiling. Or grimacing? Or both.

"Hi Sister Chantelle." I didn't realize how raspy my voice had gotten. I don't talk much anymore.

"How are you, honey?" Sister asked. She seemed genuinely concerned. I shrugged.

"Well, happy birthday." She handed me a box. "Go ahead and open it."

I did as she said. Inside I found a really nice, silver cross with my initials engraved on it. "Thank you."

I didn't want to tell her I had renounced my religion the day I was sentenced.

"You're gonna be okay, honey, but if you need me at all, just call me. Sister Chantelle can work her way into this place even after visiting hours."

She stood up, and so did I. I felt my eyes burning. Why was she being so good to me? I didn't deserve this. And then she hugged me. A real hug, not one of those half-hugs or one-arm hugs. It felt so familiar, and I felt hot tears rushing down my cheeks by the time she pulled away.

"I'm on your side, Lucas. I know you didn't mean to." And just like that, she walked out of my life again.

I'm sitting in my cell again. It's dark in here and it's hard to see the paper I'm writing on. I'm wearing the cross Sister Chantelle gave me. I don't think God is on my side, but at least the person who wants me to believe He is is. Maybe 20 isn't the right time to die.

**March 15****th**** – Day 258.**

I can feel myself slipping again. The visit from Sister Chantelle gave me… I don't want to say hope, because that's not right, but I can't think of the right word. But it's been nearly two weeks since then. I'm falling back into routine. I'm suffocating in it. Wake up. Eat. Work. Eat. Bed. Wake up. Eat. Work. Eat. Bed.

**March 27****th**** – Day 270.**

I saw his face through the window at the top of the door just beyond my cell. I saw him, and he looked anxious. But why would Matt worry about me? Hell, why would Matt visit me? I'm a low-life piece of shit and he never hesitated to remind me of it. I mean, yeah, we were joking around. I called him the Bridesmaid for always being second to Jason; he called me Janitor Bob because that's where we all knew I'd end up. He didn't know I was going to go to college. I didn't tell anyone. I was embarrassed. What would they say if they found out I actually wanted to make something of myself? No. It doesn't matter. I'll never know what I could've become because no one wants anything to do with me. Sister Chantelle was just a dream, and Matt was just a blurry face through a window at the top of a door a few yards away.

**April 1****st**** – Day 274.**

I used to love April Fool's Day. I was the Prankster King back at St. Cecilia's. Prankster, party-boy, druggie, dealer. Was I ever a friend? Was I ever a boyfriend? Was I ever a student? Who was I kidding, thinking I could make something of myself? I'm shit. I'm not good at anything. I wanted to go to college, and for what? So I could continue being a prank-playing-drugged-up-party-boy? No. I wanted to do a major in business. I wanted to work with the big money, because I've always been good with my own stash. I'm good at math, so why not, right? Wrong. It was a stupid idea. It was a stupid dream. I was fucked from my very first hit of weed in 7th grade. I just didn't see it back then.

**April 17****th**** – Day 290.**

I've been in prison for 290 days. Only 290 days. Not even a year. I have to stay in this place for another 74 months. Fuck.

**April 23****rd**** – Day 297.**

I wasn't imagining it. Matthew Lloyd was here, that time a couple of weeks ago. He showed up again today. Just like with Sister Chantelle. Mind-blowing.

The guard led me over to a table where Matthew Lloyd sat, sporting a suit and tie, of course. I sat down, completely bewildered by his appearance.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Hey, Lucas. How are you?"

I shrugged. "What are you doing here?"

Matt shifted in his seat. He was definitely uncomfortable, sitting there with me, a murderer. "Well. I was in the area so I thought. –"

"Bullshit. Matt, don't fuck with me." I snapped at him. Ugh. It was just like him to show up out of no where just to rub it in my face that he was a free man.

"Listen, Lucas. There was a point where we were friends, remember?" He was just as pissed as I was.

"Yeah, I remember," I lied. It was a fuzzy memory. Most of St. Cecilia's was fuzzy.

"Look, I just wanted to tell you Ivy gave birth last month."

I was… Surprised, to say the least, but it piqued my interest. "Yeah? Boy or girl? What'd she name it?"

Matt shook his head. "Girl. But she was stillborn."

I didn't know what that meant, but it sounded bad. My confusion must've shown on my face 'cause Matt proceeded to explain. "She was born dead."

"You can't be serious. Come on, dude. That was the last…" I couldn't say 'the last piece of Jason left', but I'm sure my jaw must've dropped. Matt just nodded.

"Tell her… Tell her I'm sorry, will you?"

Matt nodded again and stood up. "Yeah. I just thought you should know."

I stood up too. "I am sorry, Matt. For everything."

He wouldn't look at my face after I said that. He just turned away with a wave goodbye and left me standing there, alone.

I'm sitting in my cell now. I'm crying, and I'm trying not to get the salty water spilling from my eyes on my journal. I didn't ask Matt what he was up to or how he was doing. I didn't ask for forgiveness… I want to tell Ivy I'm sorry. I want to tell Ivy and Matt and Peter and Nadia and Tanya and Sister Chantelle and Father Jerry and Mr. and Mrs. McConnell and Rory and Diane and Allen and Zack and everyone else that I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for killing Jason. I'm sorry everyone has to live with the grief I caused. I'm sorry Ivy's baby died. I'm sorry for wishing they'd forgive me when I don't deserve it. I'm sorry for everything.

**May 7****th**** – Day 311.**

When my first year is up, I think the rest of my time here might go quicker. At least, that's what Mick says. Mick, the guy in the cell next to me, the guy who reported me to the guards for slicing myself open every day for 3 months. You could say he's cool, I guess. He's been here nearly 3 years for killing the guy who raped his daughter. His crime is justified. He isn't like other prisoners. He isn't like me. He's nice and gives me advice and talks to me, even when I don't say anything back. He says it gets easier after the first year. I hope he's right. It's the first time since the night Jason died that I've had hope. I want to hold onto it.

**May 29****th**** – Day 323**

I'm so fucking stupid. I just read through this entire fucking journal and I've dated everything wrong. Well, no, I got the dates right, but today is not my 323rd day in prison. I used to be good at math. What the fuck happened? My goddamned writing got better and my mathematical mind went down the drain. Fuck! It'll be a year exactly since I started writing in this fucking thing in a week, and I've dated the whole fucker wrong. My first year in prison is up in two months. The way I marked this fucking thing to keep track of the days is gonna throw everything off. Fuckfuckfuck! Screw it. I'm not gonna list the goddamned days anymore.

**June 2****nd**

I'm not sure what to do. I'm terrified right now… I've never been so scared in my entire life. The pen is shaking in my hand. I can barely read my handwriting. I'm just… I don't know. I want this year to be over. I want it to be done. I want to fast forward two weeks, skip the first year anniversary of Jason's death. I need it to be over. I need what Mick said to be true. It has to get better, easier. It has to. I have no other options.

**June 8****th**** – One Year.**

This is it. This is the one-year mark. Jason died at my hands one year ago today. I feel…numb. I'm not a person anymore. Lucas Carter is dead. Yeah. He died when Jason McConnell's body hit the floor. I'm just his empty shell. I bet Peter and Nadia and the rest of the McConnell's and Matt and Ivy and Tanya and Rory and Allen and Zack and Diane and Sister Chantelle and Father Jerry and everyone else are at the cemetery – at Jason's grave – telling him they love him and miss him and how much they wish he was still with them. After that, they'll go their separate ways, except for Peter, Nadia, Matt and Ivy. They'll all go for coffee and catch up. They'll talk about college and work and how they've been holding up. They'll reminisce about Jason. Then things will fall quiet and Matt will say he came to see me. They'll all go ballistic on him. He'll say he was wrong to do it, that it was a mistake to visit Jason's killer. He won't pass on the message I gave him. He won't tell them I'm sorry.


	5. Summer Year 2

Charlie's Channel – Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying my story. The grammatical errors are intended – and trust me, they are sooo challenging to write. I'm such a grammar freak. XD But I figured Lucas didn't pay much attention in school. He even admits he was mostly there for the parties, and in the show he's the very last in the class ranks, so I figure his writing skills would develop as he continued to write in his journal, but they would never be quite up to par. Keep reading, though! The story will get better and more intense.

The Metronome Maven – I'm glad you like it! Keep checking back, there will be more action coming up soon. :]

**June 9 – Day 366**

I slept badly last night. I kept seeing Jason stumbling on the stage and then falling back, his arms searching for Peter. Over and over again I watched him die. It's been 366 days since that night. Unfuckingbelievable. I killed a guy I once called my friend 366 days ago. I killed Jason. Fuck. I can't keep doing this. I keep forgetting that my prison sentence didn't start when Jason hit the floor. I still have two months before I've been in here for an entire year. I need something to focus on; something to keep me going. I'm lost. All I have is a pen, a journal and a cross. But I could have more. I could have Tanya… My beautiful, silver, Tanya. I need it back. I need her sting. I want to feel the rush and burn she gives me every time she punctures my skin. I want her back.

**June 30 – Day… Who cares?**

I can't shake this thought out of my head. I miss my mother. As cold and distant as she was, I miss her. I wish she'd visit me in this godforsaken place. But no, she's probably too busy with her fucking law firm to remember she has a son. I wonder if she misses me… I wonder if she thinks I'm guilty. Does she still love me? Mothers are supposed to love you unconditionally, right? But she never really showed me love to begin with. As soon as I was old enough, she shipped me off to boarding school. She hated it when I was home. She ignored me most of the time. Maybe that's why I fucked up so much at school… A classic textbook case of the attention-deprived child. I miss my goddamn mother. I miss that cold-hearted bitch who gave birth to me. I'm pathetic.

**July 17**

I'm sick. I'm so miserable that I'm actually fucking sick. They've stuck me in the infirmary again. I'm in so much pain. My stomach is killing me. It feels like I'm being stabbed with a jagged knife over and over. I'm vomiting every twenty minutes. They say it's a virus. They say I'm contagious and have me shut away from the rest of the inmates stuck in here. I don't agree with them. They say it's a virus, I say its guilt. It's eating me from the inside out. They have me eating soup and drinking more water than could fill a 120-gallon fish tank. It kind of helps, sometimes. It helps to know someone, even if they're just prison guards, wants me to survive this. I suddenly don't miss my mother anymore. She wouldn't have given me soup. She would've told me to shut up and go to my room. I hate that bitch. I hate her so fucking much.

**August 8**

I wonder what my parents would say if they could see how sick I was. I'm pretty sure the doc called them. They haven't come to see me. I don't care. I don't want to see them anyway. But I do want to see Nadia. She was Jason's twin. I can't lose sight of what's important here. I killed Jason McConnell. His twin is left behind to live without her other half. I want to – I need to see her. I need to tell her I'm sorry, that I understand that I'll end my life in Hell and I won't get to see Jason and tell him I never meant to kill him. I'm delirious. I need to sleep. I need… I need to breathe.

**August 19**

Was I wrong? Did I ever stop and think about why I was so willing to give Jason that fucking vial of GHB? Did I ever stop to think that he might overdose? Shit, man. Maybe I did think it, but like… Subconsciously. I never thought about how he was feeling, about the hell he'd just faced in being outted in front of all his friends – and not by his choice. Fuck, man. I didn't think it through. I should've known Jason wouldn't have asked for something on the side like that, right before the show, right before graduation.

**August 20**

My parents aren't answering any phone calls from the prison. They're not coming to see me. If I die… Well, fuck them. They don't give a shit about me and I sure as hell I don't care about them. If I die, fuck it. I'm going to hell anyway. God gave up on me a long time ago, and I gave up on Him the second Jason collapsed.

**August 28**

Benvolio Montague survived at the end of Romeo and Juliet, right? I mean, I guess I kind of paid attention when we read the play during my… one of my freshman years. Or was it both? Romeo died. Juliet died. Mercutio died. Tybalt died. I don't know who else. I don't remember Benvolio dying. But hey, that was my character in the school production. But Romeo, he died on stage that night. Juliet... Well, she died when her baby died. Mercutio died when Romeo hit the floor. Tybalt died when he realized the damage he'd caused. Juliet, Mercutio and Tybalt. They have the potential to get back up again. Travel the world, become famous, be truly happy – be alive once more. Romeo? Well he's six feet under. And me? I'm here. In prison. Alone.


End file.
